


Obsession

by strikecommanding



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Corruption, F/M, Haunting, Historical, Mariachi Reaper, Reader-Insert, Supernatural Elements, it's more dubcon than noncon but putting up that warning anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 17:56:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20782721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikecommanding/pseuds/strikecommanding
Summary: You're determined to find out about this man whom history forgot, and you discover a bit too late that your obsession with this project apparently goes both ways.





	Obsession

**Author's Note:**

> a 3k comm in which reader-chan writes about mariachi reaper's sombrero for her thesis and awakens ghost reaper for ghost sex ahahaha i'm working on my honors thesis rn which is decidedly not sexy

People seldom know from a young age exactly what kind of career they want to pursue in the future, but you always knew in your heart that you were in love with history. Where other kids aspired to be princesses or superheroes, you would get lost for hours on end in whatever history books you could get your hands on. Even when others abandoned their childish ideals and picked up interests that could lead to a more realistic future, you held steadfast onto your dream. You persisted through high school and university, and then you went on to pursue grad school with your master’s in curatorial studies in sight.

Of course, it was far too early to start getting excited about your future as a museum curator. Your first semester as a grad student had only just started after all. But you couldn’t help but daydream about it whenever you set foot into a museum, particularly the one you were in now. One of the expectations that lay upon your shoulders now was a lengthy thesis on a historical topic of your choice, and you decided to visit this museum to see if you wouldn’t be struck by something right away. You were open to anything and everything that caught your eye since narrowing down a topic on your own would have been far too difficult.

You tried to stick with the permanent exhibits only in the event that you ever needed to come back and visit for a refresher, but you couldn’t stop your wandering eye from leading you to an area you knew was reserved for transient displays only. Beautiful historical pieces were always coming in and out of this place and you thought it would be a shame to miss out on any of them for the sake of being ‘objective’. You would just take a peek before getting back to work.

This was your first mistake. Ignoring the strange chill that swept through you as soon as you entered the tall, circular room that served as the heart of the museum, you found yourself enamored by a large black sombrero resting on a slant inside its glass case. The closer you got, the more little details you were able to uncover and appreciate. The brim of the hat boasted a white but faded trim, betraying its age and making it that much more appealing to you. It was beautifully preserved and in as pristine condition as the museum techs could manage.

Once you finally tore your eyes away from the hat and directed your attention to the plaque beneath it, you learned that not much was known about this particular piece. Apparently it was recovered from somewhere in Mexico City during the 1920s, but the plaque made it explicitly clear that nothing was concrete about this finding. You were disappointed to learn this and frankly, a bit annoyed. For as beautiful a job as they did preserving this sombrero, you would’ve thought they could do even half as much in terms of researching it.

You were suddenly struck by the idea that you yourself could do much better. It was an unconscious thought that slowly wormed its way to the forefront of your conscious mind as you thought with a bit more conviction, yeah, you absolutely could do a much better job. You hadn’t expected to find a topic for your thesis this quickly, but now the best candidate was displayed right in front of you. Not only would this make for an excellent basis for a thesis on Mexico’s rich culture, but you would also be able to satisfy your nagging curiosity to learn more about this beautiful but historically neglected sombrero. If you could fill in all the museum’s blanks on this piece’s origin and perhaps even its owner, your name might be forever tied to it no matter what exhibit it ended up in next.

Stepping back from the display, you reached into your bag for your camera. Generally you respected most museum’s rules to refrain from flash photography, but you needed images to start your research. Just cell phone pictures wouldn’t do either, you mused as you pulled out your clunky vintage camera and held it up against your eye. Your friends always teased you for your anachronistic tastes, claiming you were so in love with history and old things in general that it seriously aged you.

You approached the display at different angles, making sure to capture as many details as possible. It had been a bit difficult but you eventually managed to stretch your arms over the tall glass to even get an aerial view. Satisfied and ready to get to work, you left the museum so abuzz with possible thesis ideas that you didn’t notice the cold chill that followed you out.

\---

When you picked up a new project, you tended to bury yourself in your work. As a result, it wasn’t uncommon for your work to follow you even into your dreams. The one you had after your first full day of researching this sombrero bordered on a nightmare, not in the sense that you were gripped by terror throughout the whole thing, but simply creeped out. You couldn’t remember much of it by the time you woke up, but you seemed to have been followed into the waking world by a sense of unrest. That day, a lot of your time spent researching at the local library also saw you constantly looking over your shoulder.

This feeling was easily forgotten once you sat down behind your laptop and a fortress of historical texts to start a basis for your thesis. You had taken on a tall order in trying to figure out exactly who owned this sombrero when you had so little work with in the first place, so the start of your search was understandably slow. What you weren’t expecting was to find a spark so soon and actually grab hold of it. In leafing through one of the books you’d picked out, you happened to see an old photograph of the exact sombrero you were writing about. The image displayed the object by itself, so the owner was still nowhere in sight, but there was at least a background that might at least help you decipher the origin of this picture. That alone was plenty more to go on than what the museum had provided.

That spark quickly proved to be the whole damn lightning bolt as you quickly learned more seemingly without even trying. It was almost like the information was coming to you as every lead proved to be another piece of the puzzle. Researching like a madwoman informed you that this sombrero had originated from Cocula, Jalisco, which was the birthplace of mariachi. You had the where, but now you wanted the when. You’d been working diligently on figuring this out when a few overhead lights abruptly shut off, and you looked up to see a grumpy librarian glaring at you. Apparently you were overstaying your welcome so you gathered up your things and prepared to go home, determined to continue working once you got there.

That was the plan, at least. You’d even gotten as far as setting up shop at your desk and pulling out all your notes, along with the photographs you’d taken at the museum when you spotted something peculiar. A vague blur not unlike a hand was just barely visible when you were sure it hadn’t been there at all when you first took the picture. No matter how many times you tried to blink your fatigue away, the distortion persisted. Suddenly reminded of the uneasiness you felt earlier in the day, you slowly pushed away from your desk and decided to retire to bed. You had to be sleepy if you were starting to see things.

\---

You hadn’t been seeing things, you grimly discovered the following morning when you peeked back at the photograph and saw that ghostly hand still there. It looked even clearer today, in fact, and you thought it looked like someone reaching out in an effort to swipe the sombrero right out of its display. The idea was beyond unnerving, but you didn’t allow it to scare you off. Not only had you made too much progress to back out of this project now, but you were also chasing after the glory that would come from uncovering this man that history forgot. If you proved that you could do what they couldn’t, you were sure they would offer you a full-time position once you graduated, if not before.

So you persevered. But even in the privacy of your own apartment, you still found yourself glancing over your shoulder every once in a while. On top of what you were staunchly dismissing as some flashback in the photo and nothing more, you’d had another strange dream last night. You remembered being chased and captured, the sensation of a hand around your throat becoming vivid when you let your mind stray from your work. No rest in the conscious world as well as in your dreams, it made sense that you’d experience a midday crash.

That feeling of mere unease became much more palpable when you realized you’d fallen asleep at your desk and slipped back into the nightmare that plagued you the night before. Now a little bit more lucid, you were able to better take in your surroundings which were pitch black. This space seemed large and empty, at least until you heard a pair of distant footsteps behind you.

Little more was needed to make you break into a sprint ahead. True to your original nightmare, you were being chased. You hoped that being a little more aware of this fact would give you a leg up on your pursuer and help you get away faster, but it was wishful thinking. Crossing the distance between you both had taken him no time at all, as you felt those ghoulish hands on your body in a flash. One wrapped around your neck and choked the life out of you while the other took firm hold of your shirt and pulled.

Just as quickly as you found yourself in this horrible nightmare, you jolted back to consciousness. A moment to catch your breath and assess your surroundings revealed several papers as well as a thick textbook scattered on the ground beside you. You figured you must have been flailing as a result of your unconscious terror, and it actually worked in your favor since the heavy thump of your book hitting the floor had successfully woke you up.

When you finally settled, you started cleaning up the mess you’d made. To your dismay, picking up the papers unearthed that eerie photograph which apparently fell with them and you couldn’t avoid looking at it once it was in your hands. You nearly dropped everything all over again when the unmistakable image of a black-clad arm now joined the blur of a hand that only just appeared the other day. You had been too scared to turn around and get a good look at your pursuer from your dream, but you were positive that he and this slowly developing figure were one and the same.

Throwing your materials back onto the desk without any regard for neatness, you stumbled backwards and away from the offending photograph. Something greater than fatigue or delusion was at work here, and whatever it was made you feel unsafe in your own home. You needed to get away, if only for a little while, and surround yourself with other people in place of your work.

\---

The remainder of that day was spent aimlessly out in town, where you did anything you could just to take your mind off of your thesis. You stayed out late until being out was objectively more dangerous than being at home, at which point you resigned to going back to your apartment. Despite the hour and how exhausted you’d become, you refused to let yourself fall asleep. The moment you let your guard down you would find yourself back in that terrifying void that only contained you, your stalker, and miles of empty space through which he could chase and eventually catch you.

In spite of your best efforts, you couldn’t keep your eyes open forever. You hoped that you had simply worn yourself ragged to the point of sleeping through the remainder of the night without experiencing any dreams, but that would have been too easy. The entity that seemed to be after you was determined to make your life hard by ensuring you would be cognizant of every sordid detail of your time together once he caught up to you again.

The man picked up right where he left off, seizing your throat with one hand while the other tore your clothing from your body as if ripping tissue paper to shreds. Even though you had retained the mental capacity necessary to process what was happening to you, you didn’t seem to have even an ounce of physical strength you normally possessed in the waking world. Either that, or the man who apprehended you was just so strong that your fighting actions were inconsequential to him. You could do nothing but grow rigid as he stripped you naked and lowered your body to the floor, caging you beneath him.

At that point you closed your eyes. You were too frightened to be face to face with the entity who had been tormenting you, especially now that he was on you predatorily and seemingly with the intention to take you violently. Learning your attacker’s face now would have been more than your overactive heart could bear. This was what you were set on, at least until a ghastly voice cut through the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Look at me.”

That command should have scared you, and it did, yet you found yourself unable to defy him. It could just be that you acquiesced for fear of what would happen if you didn’t, but there was a deeper, somehow gutsier part of you that wanted to claim what had you trembling and put a face to it. Part of the terror was not knowing, after all, so you opened your eyes without hesitating and sought to control at least a single aspect of your current situation.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t to find two empty black sockets staring back at you. Undoubtedly you were face to face with a skeleton, or a skull at the very least since the rest of his body was thick and solid with muscle. You thought you’d scream upon learning that your assailant was a monstrous, eldritch horror but your reaction was just the opposite. All you could do was stare in a raptured silence which was only broken when something warm and girthy plunged into your body without warning.

Your resulting cry was obscured when the man shoved two gloved fingers down your throat; these, too, felt like the appendages of a living person and not the ghost looking back at you. For at least a little while after this faceless man began thrusting into you, you continued trying to understand what was happening. But it didn’t take long for you to give into sensation over reason, or for your fear-induced trembling to turn to shivering anticipation for what he would do next.

The man’s hands had felt big around your throat and your shoulder previously, so to have them now curve over your breasts and your rear made you feel small and vulnerable. This was a willing vulnerability now, however, as his palm sank down the length of your smooth torso and cupped the junction at which you both were joined. The more he touched you, the more you were certain to some degree that he was human, otherwise the pad of his finger against your clit wouldn’t have felt so solid and warm and _good_. He stroked the sensitive hub of nerves until you were convulsing beneath him, breaths and sighs of praise exiting your lungs like little staccato notes.

He suddenly felt bigger and fatter inside you with each thrust, and you figured you must have been squeezing down on him so hard that he was close to his limit as well. One more deft and desperate swipe of his finger was all your clit needed to reach that peak and send wave after wave of euphoric impulses all throughout your weakened body. Your orgasm took your breath away, and his orgasm cleared you of the last few breaths you didn’t even know you had in reserve. If there were any lingering doubt that he was human, or at least used to be at some point outside of your dreams, it was dispelled by the sensation of white hot pleasure exploding inside of you.

The two of you had finished but you still wanted more, and you assumed he did too since he remained erect inside of you. To your utter dismay, he began pushing off of you and his whole body seemed to be growing intangible altogether. Like a fiend suddenly being separated from her fix, you reached out to try to hold onto him before he faded away.

In the next instant, you found yourself in bed with your head throbbing in tune with your grating alarm and your panties significantly damper than they’d been the night before. Your brain was slow to start after what you’d initially believed was real, mind-blowing sex, and you were disappointed to learn that your night spent with that stranger was all in your head. More than disappointed, you were absolutely devastated. Your first good night after days of terror was all in your head.

You didn’t know how, but you had a feeling there was a way to find this man again. Like a moth to a flame, you carried yourself back to the place this all began, where you first fell victim to his spell.

The museum had only just opened for the day so you didn’t have to worry about running into any other patrons there. Just like when you’d first seen it, the room containing the sombrero was completely empty. You moved to stand directly in front of the display and caught a reflection of your disheveled appearance in the glass, as well as something else.

A closer inspection revealed that this second figure in the glass was not a reflection, as no one was standing behind you. Mindlessly, you reached for the black-gloved hand you saw and were only mildly surprised when it turned out to be solid and capable of holding you in turn. Rather than just holding you, the hand managed to drag you in. Had you been unaware of the pleasure that hand could show you, you would have fought tooth and nail to pull back and escape. But you had been enlightened, and you were ready to submit yourself completely.

**Author's Note:**

> strikecommanding.tumblr.com


End file.
